


Angel Kisses

by furia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-17
Updated: 2012-04-17
Packaged: 2017-11-03 20:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/furia/pseuds/furia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I usually just art, but sometimes I fic too. And it gets messy.</p><p>The motel's door wouldn't open, the key was hundreds of miles away, and a severe case of claustrophobia was setting in for Dean Winchester. But Castiel didn't understand why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angel Kisses

“Dean, would you stop moping around? Bobby’s coming as fast as he can without getting pulled over. Chill, dude.”  
Sam’s older brother sat on the end of the motel bed, hunched over with one hand running through his sandy hair nervously. He shot Sam a brooding, angry look.  
“Look, Sammy. We’ve been cooped up in here for nearly six hours. I’m dyin’ for some fresh air, okay?”  
Dean returned to moping.  
Castiel had been standing in the same spot quietly for as long as Dean could remember. He’d barely moved an inch, except to try and help them get the door to open. The only reason they hadn’t torn the door off of the hinges was because they hardly had enough money to pay for a room, let alone pay for damages.  
“What about you, angel boy?” Dean prodded, “Don’t you need a breather? I know I do.”  
Castiel’s cerulean eyes lit up for a moment before they squinted slightly. His brow furrowed a bit as he made that confused face he wore so often. It was similar to that look a puppy gave you when it cocked its head to the side when it didn’t understand something.  
Humans. They scarcely made sense to him.  
“I do not understand your distress, Dean. This room is substantial. I have been in worse places much longer than this.”  
Dean’s eyes darkened. So had he. No place could ever be as horrendous as Hell had been. But this wretched motel room was slowly climbing up his list of places he hated. There was nothing for him to do here. Sam just sat there, doing God knows what on his laptop. And Cas, still standing in the same spot he’d been in for hours, drifted off once again into that dream land of a mind of his, filled with God and fluffy pink clouds and unicorns or something. Or at least that’s how Dean pictured it, anyways. Cas was quiet a lot of the time, so he must have a lot of things to think about, right?  
He glanced back at Castiel, whose expression had faded from confused to stoic with the dry silence.  
Dean frowned. “Too bad you’re losing your mojo. We could have been out of here hours ago.”  
“Dean, seriously. We have nothing better to do at the moment. Why don’t you just enjoy it for a little while? At least we aren’t on a case and we have some time to rest.” Sam said.  
“I’d rather be hunting a werewolf or something. It’d give me something to do.”  
Castiel looked at Dean, confused once more. “Sam is right. We all need to be well rested in order to continue hunting effectively.”  
Dean rolled his eyes and stood up, heading to the bathroom.  
“Whatever.” He slammed the door.  
Sam breathed a huge sigh and went back to searching for any nearby cases.  
No such luck.  
Tiredness suddenly ravaged his body. He couldn’t remember the last time he got a good night’s sleep and he figured a nap wouldn’t hurt. He shut his laptop and sat down on the bed Dean had been sitting on a few minutes prior.  
“Hey, Cas. I’m gonna take a quick nap. If anything happens, wake me up, okay?”  
Castiel simply nodded as Sam lay down.  
Why was Dean so upset? It was just a room, Castiel thought. They’d been in worse situations as of late. Well, as of forever, actually. Maybe he’d ought to try to cheer Dean up a bit. The last thing they needed was for him to be tense and nervous like this. But what could he do? According to Dean, without his powers, Cas was basically a baby in a trench coat. That comment stung more than Cas would’ve liked to admit. He didn’t want Dean to see him as useless. A burden. In the way of their job.  
No, that was the absolute last thing he wanted.

 

The icy water eased Dean’s anxiety a bit. He looked up into the mirror at the reflection of himself, his face dripping. He saw green eyes, full lips, and a nose sprinkled with freckles. When he was a child, his mother had told him that his freckles were spots left from kisses angels left while he slept at night. It was funny; he’d almost believed her at some point.  
Well, now it didn’t sound so crazy. Castiel did leave a handprint on his arm when he’d raised him from Hell, after all.  
He shook his head. Okay, the angel kisses thing was dumb. He felt a bit embarrassed for even almost believing her when he was young.  
Grabbing a bleached-white hand towel, he dried his face off slowly, breathing in a big gust of air before letting out a sigh. Back to sitting in the room, he supposed. If he didn’t come out soon, Sam might think he fell in the toilet and got stuck or something and try to rescue him. He laughed quietly at the idea.  
Opening the door, he noticed Sam on the bed asleep. Even more surprising, Cas had actually taken a seat at the foot of the other bed, clasping his hands together with his forearms resting on top of his legs. He appeared to be deep in thought. Geez, what was this guy always thinking about?  
Cas looked up suddenly.  
“Dean?”  
“Yeah, Cas?”  
“I’m not….completely useless without my powers.”  
Dean was taken aback. This was something he wasn’t expecting. Curious as to what the angel meant, he sat down beside him.  
Castiel flinched a little.  
“Okay. What do you mean?”  
“First of all….my vessel is not a baby, Dean. It is capable of a few more complex things than an infant.”  
Dean snickered.  
“You’re still upset about that? I was just kidding, man. Learn to take a joke.”  
Castiel looked down at his shoes, hurt. He had no idea where this conversation was going, but he had to prove to Dean he wasn’t a waste of space. He wanted Dean to see him as important. To him, if to no one else.  
Dean noticed Cas’s change of expression and suddenly felt an acute twinge of fluttery pressure in his stomach. He had the sudden urge to pat Cas’s dark hair and tell him it was okay, like he would a puppy. A sickeningly adorable puppy with big blue eyes…  
Wait, what? What was he thinking? And what was up with his stomach? He wasn’t hungry, for once. How strange. It was almost like the feeling he got after seeing the pain in a girl’s eyes that he’d dated pretty seriously at one point (well, seriously for him anyways).  
He brushed the strange feeling off, still baffled. Whatever. Maybe he was hungry or something. Yeah, that must’ve been it. He was hungry.  
“So what can good ol’ Jimmy do, huh?” Dean asked, attempting to leaven the awkward silence that had come to be in the midst of his thoughts.  
“I know how to use a remote.” Castiel stated flatly.  
“Well that’s nice and all. What else?”  
“I have been trying to learn how to whistle.”  
Once again, Dean snickered. Where on Earth was this conversation going?  
“Oh really? I wanna hear you try.”  
Castiel nearly looked shocked for a moment. And it almost looked like he was blushing a little.  
No, it had to have been the light or something. Yeah, that was it. Grown men didn’t blush. And that’s what he was trying so hard to prove he was, so it was only logical, according to Dean.  
Dean waited, his patience growing thin. Castiel, after appearing to sort out all of the mechanics of whistling in his head, formed a pale pink O with his lips.  
And…hey, he was doing it! Only a little, but he had actually learned to whistle. Dean almost felt proud.  
Wait…. Dean recognized the tune.  
It was only the chorus of one of his favorite songs in existence: Heat of the Moment, by the band Asia.  
Screw almost feeling proud. Dean felt like a dad who had just watched his son ride a bike without training wheels for the first time.  
“Cas! How did you know how to do that? I love that song!”  
The lighting got funny again.  
“I heard you play the song so much, and so I learned it because I knew you liked it a lot.”  
Dean placed a strong hand on Castiel’s left shoulder and shook it a little, approving greatly.  
“You’re alright, Cas.”  
Flashing his million-dollar smile, Dean felt that weird feeling in the pit of his stomach again. What the heck? He decided once and for all it wasn’t hunger. But he still didn’t understand.  
He turned to look at Sam, who was out like a light. Maybe he should wake him up soon…  
“Woah, hey. Cas. We’ve talked about personal space before, remember?”  
The tip of Castiel’s nose was nearly poking the tip of Dean’s. There was that confused look again that was blatantly Castiel. And that weird feeling. Gosh, Dean just wanted it to stop already.  
“Dean, how did you get those little freckles all over your nose? I don’t have any. Neither does Sam.”  
Dean felt that embarrassment again, as he had in the bathroom. He glanced down at the floor and then back up at Castiel.  
“Well, when my mom was still alive, and I was a little kid, she used to tell me that they were uh…marks. Marks left by the angels that came in to leave little kisses on my face when I slept at night. I dunno, man. Sounds crazy, right?” He paused. “You guys are fierce and tough. I don’t see any of you going in to kiss little kid’s faces while they sleep. I mean come on, that’s like, pedophilia or something, right?”  
Castiel’s gaze remained unwavering.  
“Can I make a freckle?”, Castiel asked, his expression the same.  
Dean’s stomach jumped.  
Uh. What? Dean cleared his throat. Had he heard Cas right?  
“What the heck are you talking about?” he asked, anxiety creeping back up into his voice.  
“I want to try to make a freckle. I want to see if it works. I have never heard of that before. It seems interesting to me.”  
Dean was getting really flustered by this time. Castiel was just as close to his face as he had been a moment before. Or maybe he had gotten closer. Dean couldn’t tell at this point if it was real or if his mind was playing tricks on him.  
The angel sat still, waiting for an answer. His blue eyes bore into Dean’s.  
Well, Sam was sleeping. He wouldn’t be awake to see this.  
“…fine,” Dean surrendered, not sure what was going on, “Go ahead. Just…don’t tell anyone, okay?”  
Castiel placed the tiniest, softest, and, in Dean’s confused mind, the gentlest and warmest peck upon the end of his nose.  
Pulling away, Cas looked disappointed.  
There was that feeling again. Times a thousand.  
“It didn’t work…” Cas pouted, his brows knitting together in sadness.  
Oh, God.  
Before Dean’s eyes could register what he was doing, his hand had already found itself resting lightly on Castiel’s stubbly cheek.  
Dean knew what that feeling was now.  
Those ocean eyes continued burning into Dean’s and he couldn’t take it anymore. Taking the rest of Cas’s face in with both of his hands, he pulled the angel closer, nervously, until their lips met.  
That feeling.  
It was too late to fight it.  
But Dean didn’t want to.

 

After a brief moment, they pulled apart, their faces still dangerously close, as if they were in anguish at the thought of leaving each other’s lips.  
That was exactly the case, actually.  
“Dean,” Castiel said, his voice cracking slightly.  
His breath coming unevenly and that feeling infecting his insides still, a hint of a smile appeared on Dean’s lips. He looked at Cas with kind wonder.  
This was better than any woman. Better than any food. His head spun in a way that his alcohol couldn’t compare to.  
This was it.  
A hollowness had wrought its way into Dean’s lone heart lately. Well, it had always been there, but now it was eating him alive. Hunting, seeing lives lost, and being relentlessly bombarded by the likes of Hell and the memories linked to it were burning a black hole straight through him. Not to mention the way he and Sam had grown apart since Sam had begun…changing. Just the thought of it all made him nauseated. He missed the old Sammy. His little brother. This bloodthirsty punk who couldn’t decide what team he played for wasn’t enough to satisfy Dean. It disgusted him.  
But more than anything, Dean was just tired.  
All that aside, Dean couldn’t shake the feeling of serenity that hummed through his bones as he held the angel’s face.  
His angel.  
“Dean, my stomach feels strange and my face is burning. I believe I have become ill.” Castiel suddenly grasped his abdomen, concerned.  
Dean kept on smiling. His cheeks hurt, but he couldn’t care less. Or stop, for that matter.  
“You’re not sick, Cas, “ Dean explained, “I would never let you get sick.”  
Castiel’s lips curled into a smile, reducing Dean’s heart to a puddle. He stole another kiss, this one a bit longer, as he breathed in Castiel’s clean scent.  
“What the-“, Sam rustled awake, sitting up in the bed. “Dean?!”  
Surely he was dreaming.  
“Screw off Sammy,” Dean said, slightly looking over his shoulder. “I’m busy.”  
What on God's green earth was going on?! Sam was dumbfounded, opening and closing his mouth several times in an attempt to make some kind of snide comment, but nothing came out. He was a bit disgusted, but mostly confused.  
Also, Dean had had such a problem with Sam when he had been with Ruby, so what was the difference? Angels could be just as ruthless as demons, given the circumstance. Hypocrite. So typical of Dean, he thought, to give advice but not take it himself.  
Offense stung the nerves at the tip of Sam’s nose, and he shifted uncomfortably.  
Just then, the doorknob began convulsing and rattling loudly.  
“Bobby!” Sam cleared his throat loudly, rushing to the door. Thank God. This was getting weird.  
The door creaked open and Bobby Singer, hero of the day, shuffled his way in.  
“Gabriel,” he spat. “There was a buncha wire tied around the knob. I wouldn’t have figured it out if he’d covered his tracks a little better.” Bobby exhibited a crumpled Snicker's bar wrapper in his weary hand.  
Duh, a trickster. It all made sense now.  
“Ah, fresh air.” Sam stretched, stepping out into the sunlight. Never had he been so happy to feel the warmth.  
“Hey, c’mon, ya idgit!” Bobby poked at Dean, who was still sitting with Castiel.  
Dean crinkled his nose. He didn’t care about fresh air anymore. If stale motel room air was the last air he breathed, that would be perfectly okay. As long as he was with Castiel.  
“Nah, we’re good. I think Cas wants to...show me how to use a remote. So, don’t wait up.”  
Sam nudged Bobby. “Let’s go get something to eat,” Sam persuaded.  
Bobby spun around slowly and left with Sam, shaking his head and cursing under his breath on the way out.  
“You want me to…show you how to use the remote?” Castiel tilted his head, confused. “I thought you knew how?”  
Dean marveled in Castiel’s beauty, almost forgetting to speak.  
“Yeah, I know how.” , he smiled.  
Carefully grabbing the angel’s face once again, Dean pulled him in, stealing another sweet kiss.  
He was whole again.


End file.
